


Toxic

by sarai377



Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - Dark, BDSM, Bondage, Dubious Consent, Gaslighting, M/M, Non-Consensual, Possessive Behavior, Rape/Non-con Elements, Toxic Relationship, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-10
Updated: 2018-11-10
Packaged: 2019-08-21 19:28:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16582628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarai377/pseuds/sarai377
Summary: DARK Modern AU - Robin and Chrom's first time together is nothing like Robin expected - but everything Chrom had wanted.(Please read the tags - this is a very dark fic.)mChrobin, Possessive Chrom, Strong non-consent elements.





	Toxic

**Author's Note:**

> A couple of my friends developed this AU, so I don’t take credit for all of it. Basically, it’s a Modern AU/childhood friends situation, where Chrom grows more and more possessive of Robin. He’s cleared out all of Robin’s other friends, and even orchestrated an incident back in high school which alienated everyone further from Robin (Robin doesn’t know about Chrom’s hand in that incident). Chrom is unhealthily obsessed with Robin and uses gaslighting and subtle emotional abuse to keep him dependent on him alone. Robin attended college for a couple of semesters, staying with Chrom in their rented apartment originally as roommates, but ended up dropping out, then he started staying at home (with Chrom) more and more often.  
> Robin is very much a hurt puppy. I don’t intend to write any more of this story after this one-shot, as it gets a lot darker from here. Read at your own risk!

Chrom glances at Robin, at the way his fingers press together on his leg, one layer over the other.

“Do you trust me?” he asks, leaning in to brush his cheek against Robin’s.

“O-of course,” Robin says, and touches his hair. His hand is soft, tentative, and when Chrom withdraws, he looks so lost.

“I want to do something with you,” Chrom says, and his heart beats faster as Robin’s eyes widen. He understands - he sees what Chrom means, in the spaces between words. They’ve been dancing around this for a while now, and Chrom is growing impatient.

“Me too,” Robin breathes, and his eyelashes come down low, obscuring his beautiful golden eyes. “Chrom…”

“I know,” Chrom says, and kisses him. Robin’s mouth parts in surprise. Chrom slips his tongue inside. Robin makes a soft little noise, hands going to Chrom’s shoulders. His fingers are so delicate, like butterflies, and Chrom wants them to get harder, more confident. He wants Robin to grab him until he’s not sure if he’s trying to draw him closer - or push him away.

They are sitting together on Chrom’s bed. Chrom presses forward, with just a finger on Robin’s sternum, and Robin goes back, his head hitting the pillows with a soft little breath. Chrom crawls over him, fingers touching his face, and his other hand reaches toward the nightstand, slides the drawer open, and withdraws the first item.

Robin hears the drawer open, and tries to glance toward it, but Chrom captures his mouth in a kiss and he closes his eyes and surrenders to it. His fingers are a little harder on Chrom’s shoulders.

Chrom draws back, and looks at Robin, as he is now. Soft, gentle… and completely his, even if he doesn’t know yet.

“Open your mouth,” he says, and Robin does, not opening his eyes.

Chrom puts the fabric into Robin’s mouth and pulls his head up to tie it behind him. Robin’s eyes fly open, and he squirms, shaking his head. He makes a sound that might be Chrom’s name, and it shoots down Chrom’s body and goes straight to his groin.

He sounds so small, so contained… so helpless. And Chrom will help him. Chrom’s the only person who has ever helped Robin.

He ties the fabric behind Robin’s head and lets it fall to the pillows.

Robin stares up at him, his mouth stretched around the fabric, hands growing tighter on Chrom’s shirt. His eyes are wide, blacker than normal, as if his pupils have grown to twice their usual size.

“You’re going to enjoy this,” Chrom murmurs, and kisses Robin’s cheek.

Then he reaches down and starts at Robin’s pants. He’s trembling - probably just excited. This is the first time they’ve gotten so far, the first time to see each other’s bodies naked - the first time Chrom can claim him the way he’s fantasized for months. Robin’s hands trail down his arms, touching his forearms as he tugs at Robin’s fly. His trembling increases as Chrom pulls his pants away, and then his underwear. Robin’s thighs look silky and smooth, little white hairs trailing up from his knees to the place where hip meets leg. Chrom runs his hands along that crease. Robin bucks a bit, and lets out a soft groan.

Chrom is going to mark that pale, perfect flesh, and there’s nothing Robin will do about it. “You’re beautiful,” he breathes, and thinks of all the things he’s planned.

Robin whimpers, and closes his eyes.

Chrom takes that as acceptance to go ahead, and reaches into the drawer for a neatly-coiled rope. He undoes it, leaning over Robin to kiss him. Robin’s hands are down by his sides, not touching Chrom anymore, and Chrom takes one of them and puts it to his own face. He wants Robin to want this, to touch him, and he kisses Robin, right over the fabric. Robin groans and shudders, fingers curling into Chrom’s hair.

 

_I want this. I really do._

The words have run through his mind so many times they’ve started to lose their meaning.

Robin touches Chrom’s hair, and tries to keep himself calm. His body is trembling, but he doesn’t think about what that means. He’s half-naked before Chrom, and he thought it would feel - different. Better, like it did when they were kissing and Chrom would press his knee between Robin’s legs, grinding delicious friction into him.

This feels… strange.

_I want this. I want Chrom to do this to me_.

Chrom has something else in his hands, but Robin can’t concentrate on that. He focuses on the kiss, on Chrom. Robin’s making some soft noises in the back of his throat, almost a vocalized breath. It’s hard to breathe with his mouth forced open around the fabric, but he calms his breaths. _I want this_. He touches Chrom’s hair, his other hand lying at his side.

The rope coils around his ankle, and Chrom leans in and kisses his upturned knee. Then he scrapes his teeth against his knee, eyes flashing to Robin, smiling with eagerness.

Robin’s suddenly glad for the fabric in his mouth, because he doesn’t think he could smile back. _I want this_.

He trembles, and blinks a few times - it’s getting a bit hard to see, something is in his eye. Then his hand comes up to the fabric pressed to his face, fingers slipping beneath it. It hurts to bite his jaw into the thick bundle of fabric, hurts against his skin where it’s tugged in too tight.

“Don’t mess with it,” Chrom says, and gently takes hold of his hand. There are ropes coiled around Robin’s leg now, his thigh, and Chrom tightens them, and his ankle shifts back to press against his thigh.

_I want this._

Robin’s breathing hard now, almost gasping. He reaches for Chrom’s hands, draws them away from his leg, wanting him to focus elsewhere, not on that area.

“It’s okay,” Chrom says, and there’s a bit of impatience in his eyes. “You do want this, don’t you?”

Robin nods, urgently, needing Chrom to believe him, needing himself to believe it too. He tries to motion to the fabric in his mouth, but Chrom has turned away. He raises Robin’s right hand and kisses his wrist, and Robin watches. It’s easier to watch Chrom doing this, to want the way he’s being so gentle. Chrom’s mouth latches onto his wrist where the skin is thin over blue veins, and sucks. Robin whimpers, watching as Chrom pulls away. A little red mark is growing on his skin.

Then Chrom lowers his hand, and Robin lets him, watching with his head off the pillow. _I want this._

He’s starting to drool around the fabric in his mouth, but he can’t stop it. Swallowing is difficult.

Chrom wraps the ropes around his wrist, and Robin’s trembling intensifies. Then he tugs, and Robin’s hand is attached to his ankle. Chrom takes his elbow and pulls upward, and Robin feels the resistance, how it’s all tied together.

He whimpers, and tries to reach for the fabric, shoves his tongue against it. He tries to say Chrom’s name. His eyes are blurry now, but he can still see well enough to look at Chrom’s face as he comes up to hover over him.

“Hey, none of that,” he says, and pulls Robin’s hand away, wrapping their fingers together. “It’s okay. I’m going to take good care of you. You trust me, right?”

Robin wants to nod, _needs_ to nod. He tries to speak.

Chrom’s mouth pulls into a frown. “You trust me, don’t you?”

_I do_ , Robin wants to say. He nods, and tightens his hand on Chrom’s. _I do trust you, but this is a bit too fast. Chrom, please…_

“Good,” Chrom says, and kisses his cheek.

Robin feels a hot trickle leak from the corner of his eye, and into his hair.

_I want this_.

 

Chrom returns to his place between Robin’s legs. Robin’s erection has flagged a bit, but Chrom knows he’ll be able to get it back soon enough. His own is aching in his pants.

“You’re doing so good,” Chrom says, and presses kisses to Robin’s other knee. Robin’s hand is twisting the blanket beneath them, but he doesn’t reach for the fabric in his mouth, or for Chrom. He lies there as Chrom lays the ropes just so. “Did you know I’ve been practicing ropes for when I can use them on you?”

Robin makes a sound, and Chrom interprets it as that soft noise Robin makes when he wants him to keep talking.

“Yeah, I've been practicing this for weeks. These ropes are high quality, and you can stay in them for hours without permanent damage.”

Robin’s eyes widen, and his hand comes up, trying to take Chrom’s again.

“Shhh,” he says, and kisses Robin’s palm. “Almost, love, almost there. Just let me--” And he tugs, and Robin’s other ankle is pulled tight against his leg. “There. You’re doing so good, Robin. You’re going to look so wonderful, all tied up for me…”

Robin is still shaking. Chrom smiles and leans over him. “Are you crying?” Chrom asks, and raises a finger to trace through the tears leaking into Robin’s hair.

Robin stiffens, and then closes his eyes. His hand comes up and cups Chrom’s cheek. His breathing is fast, and Chrom kisses his temples and cheeks, then nuzzles into his neck, saying in between kisses, “It’s okay, Robin. It’s going to be okay. I’ve got you.”

When Chrom pulls back, Robin’s breathing is a bit steadier. His cock is getting harder. Chrom smiles at him, and touches his cheek. “Almost there,” he whispers, and then slips back down, drawing Robin’s other hand with him.

 

Robin lets Chrom’s kisses distract him from all this, bending his head backward to offer up his neck. This is more of what he likes, what he wants from Chrom. His breathing gets a bit easier, and there’s a fine tension ratcheting up in his lower body, a pleasant warmth. The rest is almost easier to bear when Chrom is here with him, like this.

But then it ends. Robin blinks up at the ceiling, realizing almost too late that Chrom has taken his left hand and is now wrapping ropes around his wrist. He groans, and tries to pull his hand away, but Chrom tightens the ropes with a slither.

_Trapped._

Robin cries out, deep in his throat, and wants to tell Chrom to slow it down, to come back and kiss him.

_I want this - don’t I?_

He starts tugging, twisting his body, but the ropes are firm and unrelenting.

Chrom takes hold of his knees and forces them apart, and Robin can do nothing to stop him.

“Relax, Robin,” Chrom says, and comes up between his knees, hovering over Robin. His eyes take in all of Robin, all of his exposed parts, and Robin wants to cover himself up. “You’re doing so good. I’m so proud of you, letting me do all this to you.”

He lets Chrom’s voice soothe over him. If Chrom says it, then it must be true. Chrom has always been there for Robin, has never turned his back on him.

Robin loves him, needs him desperately. If this is what Chrom needs of him, then he will happily comply.

He wishes he could kiss Chrom.

 

Chrom calms Robin, a bit at a time, and all the while his mind is running forward and forward, to what he will do next, to how he will get to have Robin. And when Robin is finally breathing somewhat normally, Chrom leans into the drawer and pulls out a little bottle. He kisses Robin again, on the cheeks, and then his hands go down, pressing his knees from where they cling around Chrom’s hips.

Robin makes a soft noise as Chrom’s hand goes to caress his inner thigh, above and then below the ropes. He admires his handiwork for a minute. The ropes won’t leave permanent damage, but Robin will carry marks from their time together. With every motion Robin carves Chrom’s affection into his skin, as the ropes tug and press on delicate, uncalloused skin. As if aware of what Chrom is thinking, Robin shifts, tugging on the ropes, testing them. His hands are tight fists by his legs, rendered useless by the ropes. _Another time_ , Chrom thinks, _another time I'll get him to struggle against me._

Chrom’s hand passes the ropes, circling inward now, finding a particular point beneath Robin.

The little furl of muscle pinches tight at his touch, pulling away from him. Robin shoves back on the bed, a few inches, using his feet, and makes a rather loud noise, all things considered. His breathing is accelerated, his stomach rising and falling with it.

Chrom pours a bit from the bottle onto his fingers, and then reaches for that spot again. “It’s okay, Robin. You’re so beautiful,” he says, and leans in, sucking another hickey into the soft flesh of his thigh. His finger dips against that spot, and Robin groans and twists.

“If you don’t stop that, I’m going to have to tie you even more,” Chrom says, and flicks his fingers in a soft reprimand onto Robin’s other leg.

Robin jumps, and whines behind the gag.

Chrom hovers over Robin again, keeping his finger there at Robin’s hole, keeping the pressure on. He kisses and nuzzles Robin’s face, and runs his hand through his hair. “You’re okay,” he breathes. “I’ve got you. You trust me, remember?”

Robin’s eyes, which were squeezed shut, open slightly. He’s crying again, salt on Chrom’s lips, and his eyes are trying to communicate something.

“What’s that? You want more? Breathe out, Robin,” he says, and sighs in an exaggerated way.

Robin sucks in a breath, and then exhales, nostrils flaring with the effort.

Chrom’s finger presses inside, just the first knuckle, and Robin jerks, tugs against the ropes. It’s so tight and warm in there, and Chrom’s body gets even more excited at the thought that he will soon be in there in his finger’s place. “Gods, you’re so warm, so _tight_ ,” he hisses, and kisses Robin’s face again.

Robin makes a whimper.

“So perfect,” Chrom says. “Now, breathe out for me again. That’s it, more.”

Robin does, and Chrom’s finger goes in further, moved along by the lubrication. Robin’s knees are tight against Chrom’s hips.

When Chrom swirls his finger Robin cries out, rising off the bed, gasping. He falls back, eyes fluttering closed.

“That’s it, you’re doing great,” Chrom coos, and presses deeper.

 

Robin loses track of precious seconds at a time. One moment, Chrom’s at that place he’s never had anything touch before, and the next he’s inside Robin. _I want this_ , Robin repeats.

And part of him does. His cock, which had been less than interested in the ropes and the intense way Chrom was _devouring_ him with his eyes, is now standing at attention. There’s something both wrong and right in Chrom’s finger down there. When it moves deeper, or around, Robin flinches, gasping.

Then Chrom’s thumb is pressing at the space right above his hole, digging his nail in unintentionally. Robin screams, the sound horribly muted. Chrom touches his face, and he’s smiling, and the sight makes Robin groan and squirm.

“That's right,” he says. “Good, you're doing great.” Robin whimpers, and Chrom twists his finger again, his knuckles digging into his flesh.

“Maybe next time I'll keep the gag off, so you can lube my fingers,” Chrom says.

Robin feels for a moment like he's going to be sick. _I… want this…_ But he's not so sure. Shouldn't he want this? Shouldn't he want to do this for Chrom? He whimpers, deep in his throat, and then loses another few seconds, because Chrom's finger is out of him. Robin relaxes and unclenches his hands, aware of the half moon circles his nails have dug. One of his nails, a smidgen too long, has drawn blood - he feels it cold and wet, squishing beneath his nail.

When he looks up, Chrom is watching him. “Still with me?” he asks, and pinches his thigh. Robin whines, trying to twist away, and Chrom pinches harder.

 

Robin's skin reddens beneath his fingers, and those soft noises he makes are so good. He caresses the skin, then leans in and kisses it, giving Robin a moment to prepare for what's coming next.

He returns to hover over Robin, touching his face until he opens his eyes and looks at Chrom. There's silence for a moment, as Chrom studies Robin, and Robin looks back. He seems dazed, a little shocked, and Chrom caresses his face until Robin nuzzles into it.

“Breathe out,” he whispers into Robin's ear, and then presses three fingers in.

Robin breathes, and then it turns into a groan. He's so tight that it's hard to get in there, but Chrom puts effort into it, grabbing Robin's shoulder for leverage.

Robin starts moaning, and Chrom can almost make words out of it.

“I guess you're not ready for three fingers yet,” Chrom says, and removes one. “Breathe, that's it, you're doing great-” And he forces the two in as deep as he can get them.

Robin's legs try to close, but Chrom's hips are in the way, so he presses his knees against Chrom. “Good, good, easy,” Chrom says, kissing Robin's cheek again. He wants to see Robin's hole by the end of this - wants to see it used and abused, open slightly from his cock. “We have to do this if you're going to fit me,” he tells Robin, kissing him again.

 

Robin hears the words through a tunnel, and it takes him a few seconds to understand. It's all happening so fast - Chrom wants to… to penetrate him, tonight? Soon? No -

_I want this_. And a distant part of his mind says, _You deserve this_.

He whimpers and squeezes, feeling Chrom doing things down there, impossibly dirty things.

And then he touches a spot within Robin that makes him feel as if his veins have been filled with lava.

He rises up off his back, babbling behind the gag, and Chrom whispers, “You like that, do you?” And he's not wrong, Robin _does_ like that.

He throws his head back as Chrom touches it again, and it's like something has gone supernova in his head, quietly and profoundly winking out all his thoughts one by one.

Robin comes back to a stretching sensation in his hole, and Chrom's fingers gently patting his cheek, growing ever more insistent until he opens his eyes. Chrom hangs over him, eyes narrowed. The crease between his eyes fades.

“Stay with me,” he says, a bit sternly, and Robin nods. He's still dazed, but he nods, wanting more, wanting Chrom to touch him like that again. “You're doing so good,” Chrom says, stroking his hair.

Robin blinks at him. Is he? Chrom wouldn't lie to him, so he must be.

Chrom gives him another pat on the cheek, and presses fingers - Robin can't tell how many, only that there's more than one - deep inside, caressing that spot again. Robin groans, and moves to kiss Chrom, only he can't, because of the fabric. Chrom kisses his forehead, which is wholly unsatisfying.

When Chrom does that movement with his fingers again, Robin squirms, eyes squeezed shut.

 

Robin is hard now, standing out from his pelvis, and Chrom smiles as he works his three fingers in and out, scissoring him open. Robin is into this, his moans muffled but still communicating his eagerness. Chrom shoves in one final time, thumb pressing at that sensitive spot in between. Robin wheezes and looks up at him, eyebrows curved in as he tries to express the pain.

Chrom eats up the sight, devours it, and comes up still hungry.

Chrom draws his fingers out, prying Robin's knees apart to watch as his entrance tries to close, but can't quite make it. Robin sighs, as if he thinks they are over.

“Are you ready?” Chrom teases gently. He wipes his fingers on Robin's thigh, and then goes to pull his own cock out. Robin can't see what he's doing, not from there. He seems dazed again, dazed and confused, but when Chrom says, “You're so wide and open for me,” Robin makes that soft noise again, the one that sounds like he wants Chrom to continue.

Chrom leans over Robin, ready to take in all the reactions, and with one hand on his hips, thrusts all the way in. Robin fights him, cries out and squeezes his knees and his asshole, but Chrom gets in. And it's wonderful, so _tight_ for him. “So good,” he whispers, and leans down to bite Robins neck, just to hear that strangled cry again.

 

Robin pulls on the ropes, tries to get away from this burning sensation, of being sundered in two. It is all going too fast.

Chrom's in. He's _in_ , and Robin can't help the feeling of fullness in there, can't get him out. He cries out, tries to beg Chrom to stop, but Chrom whispers into his neck and then bites him, and he hurts in a different way.

It is brutal, nothing like the gradual progression of fingers, and Robin needs him. To stop.

_I want this_ , he thinks, as tears drip down the sides of his face. _I wanted this. I should want this still._

But he doesn't. All that delicious heat that accumulated beneath his skin is gone, caught in the rough burn.

“Relax,” Chrom says, “Relax, you're so good for me.” Fresh tears flow from Robin’s eyes.

Chrom shifts his hips - and for a moment Robin thinks Chrom realizes how much Robin isn't ready for this, that he's backing off - but instead he pounds into that spot he'd apparently only been grazing with his fingertips, before.

Robin groans, arching his back, and Chrom slams home inside of him, and it's such a mixture of pleasure and discomfort that he doesn't know what to think, other than, _I want this_.

 

Chrom gives himself over to the sensation, looking up every so often to see the screwed up expression on Robin's face. Chrom loves the way it flickers when he finds his prostate, momentarily going soft against his will. He loves those soft little sounds, half groan and half, he thinks, begging.

Chrom is lazy with Robin's pleasure, only aiming for that spot every third or fourth thrust, but takes his own fast and easy, burying himself so deep in Robin's body that he thinks they might never separate again.

He grasps Robin's neck, but thinks better of it, then turns it into a caress. He has all the time in the world to explore Robin's every reaction, his twitches, his tells, to work his voice from a whisper to a scream, and everything in between. He will squeeze the breath from his throat, and Robin will offer it… but not today. Instead he grasps Robin's knees, forcing them apart, demanding and needing more, more, more.

Chrom buries himself in Robin, and feels his release rising within him. He doesn't hold back, doesn't pause and think of Robin's, to hold back so they can climax together.

He grabs the back of Robin's head and hoists his face up to his. Robin's tear-filled eyes meet his, begging.

“I love you,” Chrom says, and buries himself in Robin, and lets that tide wash over him, pressing his face against Robin's, hips jerky with it.

 

Robin moans as Chrom gives one last thrust, his body shaking with it, with the warm sensation of something _spilling_ into him. Chrom is orgasming inside of him. Robin whimpers, and in the back of his mind he thinks, _It's over._ _It's almost over. Please._

Except, it isn't.

Chrom’s thrusts grow shallower and shallower, and it burns, can’t he see how much it burns?

Almost a minute after his orgasm, Chrom raises his head and smiles at Robin. He's still buried deep inside.

“Your turn,” Chrom says, still smiling.

Chrom slides a hand down between them to palm at his erection. Robin groans, and wants to cry out, to beg him not to. But he can't do anything to stop him.

His hand is warm and soft, enveloping his erection, wrapping his thumb hard along the bottom. This is similar to how Robin would jerk himself off, but wildly different. The foreign, uncontrollable touch, too much pressure in his ass, combined with the burning ache, makes him whimper and struggle against the bonds.

“You like this, don't you?” Chrom asks. Robin nods, frantic, and he just wants it to be _over_.

Chrom is softening inside of Robin, the pressure of the burn decreasing. But he doesn't take himself out, just pulls on Robin's dick, murmuring soft things into Robin's temple.

Robin feels his own orgasm approaching, and tenses his thighs, mumbling behind the fabric, body jerking with the desire to take his own cock in hand, to finish it off as he's used to. He's gotten off to the thought of Chrom doing just this, of giving him a blow job, of any number of interactions, so many times. He'd never imagined this.

Robin cries when he comes, his body going rigid. Release gathers in him, tensing all his muscles. Chrom keeps his hand on it as Robin comes onto his stomach, panting out his thanks through the gag. He keeps moving past the point where Robin sags, boneless, a soft sigh. _Now_ will this finally be over?

Still no.

Chrom keeps going too long. It starts all at once, pleasure dropping away and an aching tension quickly replacing it. Robin screams, stifled, thrashing and trying to get away. _Stop, stop, enough!_

Chrom kisses his chest as he thrashes, and finally – finally – he stops moving his hand. Robin lays there gasping, exhausted, eyelids already drooping. He's overwrought and overstimulated, and fully _done_ with this interaction.

Chrom reaches up and tugs the fabric from Robin's mouth. Robin gasps and licks his lips, suddenly shy at what they just did.

“You were amazing.” Chrom smiles. “Did you enjoy that?”

Robin nods, quickly. He did enjoy parts of it. Maybe this is how sex is supposed to be… awkward, kind of painful, with an orgasm at the end to make it all more tolerable. Robin's being ridiculous, but he also can't stop crying.

“Here,” Chrom says, and shoves a sticky hand near Robin's face. “Clean this off.”

Robin stares at him. That's… his own come. He swallows past a sudden dryness, but Chrom seems unyielding. Even though he could protest, he doesn't. It's his own mess, he should give it a cleaning...

With a sigh, Robin leans in and licks at Chrom's fingers. It's salty and bitter. He's tasted his own before, of course… he was curious about the taste. This is a thousand times worse than that innocent sneak, because there's a lot of it and it's clinging to Chrom.

He thinks he gets most of it off, and leans back, satisfied but a little queasy.

Chrom shoves three freshly cleaned fingers into his mouth with a directive to suck, and then pulls out of Robin. He makes a soft relieved noise around the fingers, dutifully sucking. _Almost done, almost done..._

Chrom sits upright, trailing his wet fingers along Robin's chest and shirt. Then he presses Robin's legs apart, as far as they will go. “You did so good, taking me in like that,” he coos. “Look at how stretched you are.” He touches a finger to Robin's hole and there's a sharp stinging. Robin tugs on his ties and groans. “Hmm, looks like you're bleeding a bit. Did it hurt?”

“Not - much,” Robin says, haltingly. At Chrom's sharp glance, he amends, “It was really good.”

 

Chrom listens to Robin's words and then rests his chest on top of Robin's, touching his legs where the rope digs into him. He presses his ear to Robin's chest and listens to his heart beating.

Robin is still, his breath evening out. He’d said it was really good. Chrom thinks so, too. He touches Robin’s cheek idly and Robin kisses his hand.

Finally Chrom says, “You look so good like this. I could keep you tied up like this forever.”

“No,” Robin blurts.

Chrom's eyes snap open, and he sits up over Robin, hands to his knees.

Robin's eyes are wide. “I - I mean, you could, if you wanted to…”

Chrom both likes and hates this defiance in Robin. He wants to snuff it out, like a candleflame between wet fingers, but he also wants to cup it in his palms, to see if it will burn him.

“No,” he says slowly. “I think this has been long enough, for today. Are you ready to stop?”

Robin’s eyebrows come together. “Please.” The word is soft, hesitant, as if it lacks all meaning. Then he draws in a breath. “We can do more tomorrow.”

Tomorrow… Chrom’s mind is already spinning out, imagining what he can do to Robin tomorrow, and the day after that. He’s satisfied, for now, but that itch is always there.

“Yes, tomorrow,” he whispers, and leans down to kiss Robin. Tomorrow, they will try more of the things he’s bought and stored away, imagining them in or on Robin’s body. Tomorrow he will see all the rope burns, all the marks he’s left on Robin, and leave more.

“I love you,” Robin says, eyes going soft.

_I know you do_ , Chrom thinks, and smiles. “I love you too.”

 

Later, when Chrom has removed all the ropes, and they lay together in the darkness, knees and ankles and shoulders together, Robin cries. Chrom is spooned up against him, arm wrapped around his bare chest, holding him close. They’re both wearing comfy sweatpants, but Robin’s bare upper body is cold.

He curls in, keeping his sobs quiet, stifling them in his hand. His body trembles, and Chrom’s lazy arm over the top draws him closer, but he doesn’t try to comfort him. Chrom doesn’t notice his tears - he snores in Robin’s ear.

Tomorrow, Robin will do better. He has to… he can’t lose the one person he’s got left. Even if the thought of going through all that again makes him sick.

He wraps Chrom’s arm close, and falls into a fitful sleep. _I want this_.


End file.
